


what doesn't kill us makes us who we are

by spotters_guide



Series: Preteen Wolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Harm to Children, Neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotters_guide/pseuds/spotters_guide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the day after the fire, Derek and Laura run. they run far and they run fast and they don’t come back until the property tax is due up and the county is threatening to take their land away. it’s Hale land, and even if there aren’t that many Hale’s left now, it’s going to stay Hale land. Laura starts looking in to renovation costs and they stay in a tiny little apartment on the outskirts of town in the meantime. but they stay.<br/>~<br/>A Teen Wolf fic AU based on this question: What if the events of Teen Wolf happened one year after the fire, instead of six?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the night before the first day of school

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a wonderful piece of fanart by Hydrae [here](http://hydrae.tumblr.com/post/46382385761/back-at-the-end-of-s2-at-some-point-raya-asked-me).

the night before the first day of school, Laura and Derek argue about Derek returning to Beacon Hills High. he doesn’t want to, she does. it’s more like Derek stating his displeasure than an actual argument though, because Laura is his legal guardian and Laura is his Alpha, and Laura’s decision is law. in every sense of the word. Laura leaves before Derek’s obstinacy actually drives her to raise a hand to him, because Derek has had the look of a battered housewife in his eyes ever since the fire and Laura isn’t going to be the one to add to it now. she goes for a walk in the woods to cool her head.

X

the night before the first day of school, Stiles falls asleep curled at the foot of his mother’s hospital bed, and nurse McCall doesn’t have the heart to rouse him or his father sleeping slumped in the hard-backed chair next to the bed and kick them out at the end of visiting hours. she lets them sleep. she calls home on her break and tells her son that she loves him, and to make sure that daddy didn’t fall asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette again before he goes to bed. Scott sleeps with his inhaler next to his bed because sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and he just. can’t. breathe.

X

the night before the first day of school, Allison cries herself to sleep in a new, big, empty house. she isn’t going to know anyone in this new school, in a new town, and she’s tired of always having to leave her friends behind. the only thing unpacked in her room is a brand new compound bow.

X

the night before the first day of school, Laura meets her comatose uncle out in the middle of the woods, and gets her throat torn out by the same man who used to read her Dr. Seuss books before bed when she was a child. her last thoughts are for Derek. and for that look in his eyes that she’s going to end up adding to anyway.

X

the night before the first day of school, Peter’s first official business as an Alpha is to cut his niece in half to keep her from coming back. there’s no point in doing a job if you aren’t going to do it well, after all.

X

the night before the first day of school.

* * *

 

Allison is tall for a fifth grader, tall for a girl, and when they all stand in line to go to lunch Stiles only comes up to her shoulder. but Ms. Kachowski sat her next to him and Allison had bit her bottom lip and asked if she could borrow a pencil when she couldn’t find one in her bag. and she looks just as lost as Stiles felt this morning when his dad had to drop him off at school like his mom always used to do. Stiles holds her hand as he shows her the best table to eat lunch at, the best ball to play with at recess. Allison is tall, but she looks small when she frowns, so Stiles makes sure that she doesn’t.  
  
Stiles holds her hand until her daddy comes to pick her up after school, and she waves at him from the window as they drive away. he waits for his dad to come pick him up too. he doesn’t, must have forgotten. Stiles sits on the curb next to Scott, a boy in his grade but a different class, and wonders who forgot to pick Scott up as well. twice a teacher comes by to ask if someone is coming for them and Stiles and Scott say ‘yes’ both times, even though Stiles is pretty sure they both know nobody is coming for them. Scott’s sort of mumbling into his knees the second time like he does, anyway.  
  
they sit and watch the high schoolers walk home in silence. Scott shares a string cheese with Stiles.  
  
the moon is out early today. still light out, but it’s big and round and full and draws Stile’s gaze before he spies the vice principal walking toward them with a frown. Stiles hops to his feet and grabs Scott’s hand to force him to do the same. waves like he’s just spotted someone he knows, and drags Scott into the middle of a group of teenagers surging past. probably just finished with a club sport. one or two look down to give them curious looks but most assume that they’re someone else’s little brothers and ignore them.  
  
they stick to the middle of the group until Stiles can’t see the school anymore, can’t see the vice principal’s worried face anymore, and then they wade back out like explorers in the Savannah. except instead of tall grass it’s sharp elbows and sweat soaked t-shirts and lumpy gym bags they have to traverse.  
  
Stiles stops them under a large tree near the edge of the woods, lets go of Scott’s hand, and Scott fumbles in his bag for a moment and pulls out an inhaler. takes two puffs. asks Stiles: “why did we leave?” and “how do you say your name again?”  
  
“just call me Stiles.” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose. even he has a hard time pronouncing his name, mom’s the only one who’s ever been able to say it right. dad never even tried, called him Sport instead. and he explains: “the vice principal was going to make us sit in her office until she could find someone to take us home. which is embarrassing. and Dad’s working and I don’t want them to bother him. your mom works at the hospital, right? you probably don’t want them to bother her either.”  
  
“Dad was supposed to pick me up.” Scott says, and then blinks a bunch of times in quick succession. frowns and brings his inhaler up to his mouth again.  
  
Stiles wonders if holding Scott’s hand will make him look any less small like it did Allison. decides it couldn’t hurt. Scott’s fingers twitch uncertainly in his grip for a moment before squeezing back. “it’s fine.” Stiles reassures him. “we can walk home on our own. it’s not like we’re kids or anything, we’re _fifth graders_ now. practically teenagers. and they walk home alone all the time.”  
  
“alone?” Scott echoes uncertainly, squeezing his hand even tighter.  
  
“well.” Stiles amends. “not alone alone. we can walk home together. I just got a GameCube and Super Smash Bros. Melee, and you can call home and leave a message so your mom knows where you are when she gets off work. it’ll be fun.”

Scott says: “well…”

“it’ll be fun.” Stiles says again. stubbornly. not much has been fun since his mom started bruising real easy in the Spring, even less since she started coughing up blood. but he’s almost certain that this would be.

“okay.” Scott says, barely getting the word out before Stiles starts dragging him past the border of trees. “wait!” he says, startled. “why are we going through the woods?”

“shortcut. duh.”

“oh. right.”

X

the sun’s completely disappeared beneath the horizon before Stiles is willing to admit that he’s lost.  
  
that they’re lost.  
  
“we might be lost.” he tells Scott stoically. and then, “sorry.”  
  
Scott wheezes in quiet panic at his side and clutches even tighter to Stiles with one hand, to his inhaler with the other. “it’s really dark.” he says tinily, coughs, takes a hit from his inhaler.  
  
“naw.” Stiles says. “it’s a full moon out tonight, it’s practically as bright as the sun.” Scott gives him a doubtful look and shakes his inhaler slowly up and down. he doesn’t say anything though. “look.” Stiles tells him, squares off to look him in the eye. smiles. “all we gotta do is find our way out, right?” Scott nods uncertainly. “so I’ll climb a tree and see where the treeline ends and we’ll be fine. we’ll be home and playing Mario in no time. okay?”  
  
Scott nods again. slowly. shouts: “wait!” when Stiles makes to let go of his hand. “you’re leaving me down here?” his voice trembles a little on the last word. he has possibly the most deadly puppy eyes that Stiles has ever seen. it’s pretty unnerving.  
  
“not for long.” Stiles promises. reaches up to pat Scott on the top of his head. makes a face because Scott’s chin is level with his eyes, and he doesn’t remember everyone being taller than him the year before. Scott’s chin is sort of lop-sided. “‘m just gonna climb up, look around, and climb right back down. five minutes.”  
  
Scott frowns thoughtfully. “do you have a watch?”  
  
Stiles looks down at his wrist. just checking. “nope.” he says. says: “why don’t you count? it’ll make the time go by faster while you wait and that way you can, like, punch me if I take longer than five minutes.”  
  
“but I don’t want to punch you.” Scott says, and Stiles finally lets go of his hand. turns around and starts climbing a tree to the sound of Scott counting steadily behind him. “one. two. three…”  
  
Stiles climbs. and climbs. and climbs. he scrapes his palm on the tree bark and can’t hold back a shout.  
  
“sixty-fiv— Stiles? are you okay?”  
  
“yeah! ‘m fine!” Stiles shouts down over his shoulder. settles himself on a sturdy branch and shakes out his hand. rubs out the smear of blood on the front of his hoodie. it’s red, it’ll be fine. Dad won’t even notice. he looks right, and then left. then spots the end of the treeline straight ahead. and the house just beyond it, his house. “ha!” he knew he wasn’t lost. they were just taking the scenic route.  
  
“ninety-one, ninety-two, nintey-thr—” Scott’s steady counting cuts off suddenly in a scream.  
  
Stiles feels all of the air leave his lungs in one sharp burst at the noise. like he was punched in the gut. “Scott!” he shouts. heart racing in his chest as he scrambles down the side of the tree, loses his grip and falls the last six feet to the ground in a tangle of limbs. twigs and leaves shower down around his head.  
  
Scott is a sad, small little pile of clothes and a dark mop hair and tanned skin and red beside him.  
  
“Scott.” Stiles’ voice breaks in the middle. he blinks away the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes and bites viciously on his bottom lip when it starts to tremble. “Scott.” he says again, and presses a hand shakily to Scott’s shoulder.  
  
a whimper, thin and low, muffled into the leaf strewn ground reaches his ears. Scott rolls over onto his back and turns his tear streaked face to look up at Stiles. dirt streaked too. “something bit me.” he says tremulously, and points at his side with fingertips stained red.

Stiles props Scott’s head up in his lap, pets his brow. drags the hem of Scott’s shirt up to his uneven chin and looks. “I think it was a dog.” Stiles tells him, trying so very hard to stay calm. touches his fingers to the edges of the bite and wipes away the beading blood as gently as he can. “I don’t think it’s too bad. can you walk? we’re practically right in my backyard, and we can clean you up and call and find out whether your mom is home yet or not.”  
  
“or not.” Scott mumbles, brushes Stiles’ hands away from his side. “she’s not supposed to be home until tomorrow morning.” he eases himself up into a sitting position with a grimace, then to his hands and knees, then standing. “and that musta been a really big dog.” he says sourly, leaning his weight into Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles wraps an arm around his waist, careful of the bite.  
  
they stumble their up way to Stiles’ house like they’re running a three-legged race, Scott muffling cries and whimpers into Stiles’ neck until his shirt collar is soaked through. Stiles doesn’t mind. it stops him from crying too. the cruiser isn’t in the driveway, Dad is either still at work or at the hospital. there’s no way for Stiles to be certain because there’s no note on the kitchen table.  
  
Mom always left a note.  
  
it means they can take care of everything without getting in trouble though. no one has to know that Scott almost got eaten by a rabid dog in the woods tonight.  
  
“I hate dogs. I’m never having one.” Scott announces fiercely as Stiles cleans the bite with anti-bacterial wipes, and rubs away the fresh tears that streak down his cheeks. Stiles wets a rag and lets him wipe off his face and hands. takes Scott’s shirt and shoves it under his bed, and gives him a new one that doesn’t have teeth marks in it. Scott assures him that no one at home will notice he’s wearing a different shirt.  
  
Stiles knows that no one will be cleaning under his bed any time soon.  
  
Scott leaves a message on his home phone telling his mom he’s staying the night at a friends and Stiles does his best to cover up the bite with Neosporin and about five different neon colored band-aids arranged in a star pattern.  
  
they eat PB&J and play Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros Melee until they fall asleep on the floor of the living room, crumpled on top of one another. twisting around each other so like a curlicue. the only proof they have that the Sheriff ever came home when they wake up the next morning early, crusty eyed and yawning, is an empty bottle of scotch in the trash can that wasn’t there the night before.  
  
Stiles takes it out of the trash and puts it in the recycling, and he and Scott start to get ready for school without saying a word. no one ever called to checkup on Scott during the night either. before they leave Stiles insists on taking a look at the bite mark again.

when he peels off the band-aids, there’s nothing underneath them but clean, unmarked skin.

* * *

 

Scott eats lunch that day with Stiles and Allison, and Allison shares her mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies with the both of them. which is good because they mostly pick at the lukewarm french fries on their lunch trays and barely eat any of them at all.  
  
and neither had breakfast that morning.  
  
Stiles picks the chocolate chips out of his cookie and slides them across to Scott, a silent apology for the bite mark that he doesn’t have anymore. Scott smiles anxiously at Allison and kicks his legs under the table, kicks Stiles in the shin a couple times and apologizes every time he does. his head swivels with each rise and swell of noise in the cafeteria, and his shoulders get more and more tense as time passes.  
  
until his hand shoots out across the tabletop to grab Stiles’ wrist, tightens until it hurts, until Stiles is wincing and trying to pull away from him.  
  
“are you okay?” Allison asks, all sweet concern and wide eyes, and Stiles tries to smile at her and reassure her but Scott vaults over the top of the table at Stiles. yanks him up out of his seat and drags him out of the cafeteria, protesting all the way.  
  
they bump into another boy on their way out. Jack or something, Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever had a class with the boy, but Stiles shouts a “sorry!” at him as he’s dragged past.  his feet are practically sliding on the floor, Stiles doesn’t remember Scott ever being this strong. “Scott? what’s wrong?” he asks, frowning at Scott’s back, almost tripping face first into his shoulder blades.  
  
Scott shoves him into the restroom and flails at the only other kid in there -a boy who’s at least a head taller than both of them and why is everyone so much taller than Stiles this year?- until he leaves, giving them both a dubious backward glance. the door closes behind him and to Stiles it almost sounds faintly ominous. Scott actually flinches at the noise, finally releasing Stiles’ wrist to bring both of his hands up to his ears and cover them with a grimace.  
  
Stiles looks down at his wrist and there are already finger-shaped marks pressed dark into his skin.

“Scott.” he says slowly, flexes his hand and bites his lip. “Scott, what’s wrong?  
  
“I need my inhaler.” Scott says, throws his hands up into the air, paces over to the tile wall and kicks at it a few times. maybe it’s the way they’re so enclosed, or all the tile in the room, but the sound echoes so loud it’s like an alarm in between Stiles’ ears.  
  
“okay.” Stiles says, hands outstretched in front of him like he’s soothing a dog. “okay, is it in your bag? I can go ask a teacher and we’ll-“  
  
Scott says, “no.” says, “I don’t _need_ it need it. I need to find it. it’s in the woods. I dropped it when. when the dog bit me.” whirls around to grabs Stiles by the shoulders and shake him a bit as he talks. “I dropped it, and I gotta get it back Stiles. those things are really expensive and Dad always gets angry when he has to buy a new one, and everything is so loud Stiles. why is everything so loud? did that dog bite do something to me, do I have rabies or something? _Stiles am I going to die_.”  
  
Stiles’ head cracks once against the wall by the sinks, not too hard. not nearly hard enough to draw blood, but it draws a cry from him and Scott drops him like a hot coal. backs as far away from Stiles as he can get, hunched back down in on himself in a corner by the stalls. Stiles sort of curls in on himself too, head throbbing.  
  
“sorry.” Scott whimpers, blinks back tears. “sorry. Stiles.”  
  
he looks down at his wrist again, and the spots getting steadily darker. “give me your hoodie.” Stiles tells him, thinking.  
  
“what?”  
  
“your hoodie.” Stiles repeats as calmly as he can when he hurts in two different places and both are technically Scott’s fault. but Scott was bit and that was his, even if the bite is gone now. Stiles would take care of the bite. Scott would take care of the bruises. and they would take care of each other. “if a teacher sees these bruises they’re not gonna let up until someone’s parent is called. and if we want to be able to look for your inhaler today after school, we can’t have anybody calling any parents. so you’re gonna give me your hoodie and I’m gonna wear it, and nobody is going to see the bruises so no parents are going to get called. get it?”  
  
Scott nods slowly and unzips his bright red hoodie. takes it off and hands it across to Stiles, careful not to touch. “what about rabies, Stiles, what’s gonna happen to me?” Scott asks him, voice trembling, body shaking in little tremors to match.  
  
Stiles doesn’t know. he’s never had a dog. Mom had been allergic. now that she’s out of the house, the likelihood of him ever getting a dog was even smaller. “we’ll ask a vet.” he says. “we’ll find your inhaler real quick, as quick as the Flash, and then we’ll go to the vet and ask him. he’ll definitely know what’s wrong with you. okay?”  
  
Scott takes a few deep breaths in and out, nods his head. “okay.” he says, as Stiles shrugs into the hoodie. “okay.” he says again when Stiles holds out a hand to him, coaxing him out of the corner with a smile.  
  
his grip on Stiles’ hand as they leave the bathroom is so tentative and delicate, it’s like he’s holding onto a butterfly and trying so very hard not to crush its bright gossamer wings between his fingers. Stiles tells himself that he’s really not so fragile as all that, but the steady throb of pain in the shape of a hand under his sleeve tells a different story.  
  
he tries very hard not to be scared.


	2. Interlude: Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a wonderful piece of fanart by Hydrae [here](http://hydrae.tumblr.com/post/46656538852/try-listening-to-laura-by-bat-for-lashes-and-think).

Laura doesn't come back home. Derek lies to himself, tells himself she's fine, goes to school the next morning like she wanted him to. he leaves early because last period is study hall and there's nothing yet to study except the insides of his eyelids. Derek hasn't liked to look too closely at the insides of his eyelids in a little over a year, that's where the nightmares live.  
  
he's done lying to himself too.  
  
Derek goes looking for her in the woods, Laura wouldn't go anywhere else. he knows her scent better than anything, picks up a trail almost instantly, and it's almost so overbearing it's like the entire forest is awash with her.  
  
and it is, up to a point. Derek smells blood at almost the exact moment he smells Laura too, but he pushes it out of his mind. convinces himself it's something it's not.  
  
Laura's bisected, wide-eyed staring corpse looking up at him from the forest floor at his feet tells Derek it is. she looks surprised. and maybe a little bit sad. maybe a lot sad.  
  
or maybe that's just Derek projecting.  
  
Derek can't breathe. can't blink. can't sob. he wants to do all of these things, but he can't. Laura can't do any of them anymore, why should he?  
  
Derek drops to the forest floor on his knees, blood tacky under his jeans. hugs Laura close to him and buries his nose in her hair. she smells more like Death than Laura now, but he does it anyway.  
  
he thinks about how this is his fault. like Peter. like the fire. he thinks about how they should have never come back to Beacon Hills, how they should have just let the property tax expire because what's the point in having Hale land when there's not any Hales to live on it? he thinks about the fact that in the eyes of the law, he's still technically a child.  
  
still.  
  
technically.  
  
a child.  
  
Derek buries Laura in an unmarked grave and starts making plans. no one can know that Laura's dead. not at least until he turns eighteen, he won't go into child services. into foster care.  
  
he won't.  
  
X  
  
the next day, he finds a new patch of blood running through the forest on his way to school. blood that isn't Laura's. it's not much, not life threatening. probably just a kid taking a short cut home through the woods and scraping his hand on a tree.  
  
he finds a small, dirty inhaler buried in the leaf pile at the base of a tree, next to the scent of new blood. he pockets it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://spotters-guide.tumblr.com) for early excerpts from this and other fic.


End file.
